Finding Peace
by Moonglow gal
Summary: Oneshot. Miroku's death almost rips Sango and her son apart. Can they make their peace with Miroku's death and each other? OC POV.


**Finding Peace**

Hello! I am here with a brand new songfic: Luther Vandross's _Dance with My Father_ (SUCH A CUTE SONG!) It's written mostly from Mamoru's POV (obviously, he's an OC: Miroku and Sango's son). I picked the name Mamoru cuz that was the first name I could think of (a friend and I had been talking about Sailor Moon that day).

Disclaimer: If Inuyasha belonged to me, Kikyo would never have been revived. Naraku would not have taken so long to kill. Kagome and Inuyasha would have become mates by the second episode (well, maybe not _that_ soon). Miroku and Sango's romance would have more screen time. Since none of these things have happened, I logically cannot own Inuyasha. Besides, if I did own it, why would I have a disclaimer up? I would've written something like "HAHAHA! INU IS MINE! GROVEL, FANFIC WRITERS, _GROVEL_!" instead. But alas, that is something I am only allowed to say in my dreams (or when I'm not in the presence of lawyers…)

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"Y-you _what_?" the demon exterminator stammered, her cheeks flushing to match her magenta eyes.

The monk grasping one of her bloody, callused hands, down on one knee, smiled at her. Through a mask of exhaustion, sweat, and flecks of demon slime, he repeated, "I love you, Sango."

She gaped at him, mouthing wordlessly. As the magnitude of the words slowly sank in, she forced herself to focus on something real. Yes, there. That stray lock of his sleek black hair, plastered to his forehead at a different angle from all the others. Without her realization (or authorization), her free hand reached out and smoothed it into place, lingering on his cheek.

His smile, while it didn't change, somehow grew brighter. His pale, violet eyes sparkled as he stood and ran his fingers through her long ponytail of straight, black hair. "Miroku…" she breathed. His face…his gods-be-damned attractive face was way too close! And was it just her, or was it getting closer…?

Her eyes widened as she suddenly felt Miroku's lips against hers. She was shocked, she was affronted, but mostly…she was enjoying this! Her eyes slid shut, her arms twined around his neck. When she began to kiss him back, he leaned even further into her, sending an unexpected jolt, like a bolt of lightning, through her. She pulled him close; he pulled her closer. What did it matter that they were surrounded by demon corpses, that blood and other pleasant bodily fluids covered them from head to toe? This was heaven!

A sudden rustle in the dry bushes broke them apart, panting slightly. "Miroku…I love you, too," she whispered.

He chuckled and gently caressed her cheek. "I know, love." He kissed her forehead, then hugged her close to him. As she lay her head on his shoulder, he gently buried his nose into her hair. "I waited so long…so long for this final battle to come. 'Wait until Naraku is finally gone,' I told myself. 'Wait until you don't have to worry about the Wind Tunnel anymore, until you don't have to worry about losing her just when you found her.' I've waited for you, Sango, and you're finally here."

Sango felt wetness at the corner of her eye, then quickly wiped it off on his robes, even though they were filthy. "How long?"

"Hm?" He shifted slightly, until she could feel his breath whispering down her neck. She shivered, and scrabbled for a moment to remember what she had just said.

"How long have you loved me?"

He chuckled, sending miniature electric shocks down her back. "Since the day I was born. But when did I realize it? The day Kuranosuke proposed to you. I was jealous, so jealous, that he could pledge himself to you so easily. I wanted to keep you away from him, I wanted to tell you to say no, but then, I thought that…perhaps you would be happier in a settled life. Even though it hurt to think you might leave us and give your heart to another, I wanted you to be happy, no matter what. And that's when I knew."

Sango held him tighter, if that was humanly possible, and murmured, "It was an ordinary day for me. We were traveling, and it was really hot and muggy, so we had stopped at a creek for a drink. You dunked your head in, then came back up, dripping wet and laughing. And somehow, seeing you smile like that, with the sun shining down and our friends beside you, I just…I just knew. I just realized, 'I love this man.'"

Miroku sighed (Sango stifled a gasp as the sensation blazed through her) and said, "I can't believe you're finally with me. Sango…will you marry me?"

"…" She stared at him, open-mouthed. "That…" she gulped, "that surprised me."

He laughed. "Since when has anything I've ever done _not_ surprised you?"

She had to smile in return. "Poking fun at a time like this," she answered, pulling him in for another kiss.

_**111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111**_

"Mamoru! Where aaaaaare you?"

The boy shifted slightly and giggled. No way would Daddy find him in this great new hiding spot. Why hadn't he thought of hiding behind the woodpile before?

He quickly quieted down as a tall man in monk's robes stalked past the hut he was leaning against. One lucky glance, and Daddy would see him…

But luck was on his side. Daddy's eyes slid right past the woodpile, and then he turned and whipped right back around the corner of the hut.

Mamoru couldn't stand the suspense. He craned his neck around the side of the hut, trying to see if Daddy was going to look inside the water pot, where he had hidden last time.

'Wha...?'

Where was he? The front of the hut was abandoned. Where was Daddy?

"BOO!"

Mamoru shrieked and turned, staring into his father's laughing purple eyes.

"Found ya!"

**Back when I was child,**

**Before life removed all the innocence…**

"Miroku!" came Mommy's stern voice from inside. "Don't go scaring him like that! He's only four." She stepped outside, one hand firmly gripping the sword she had been sharpening. She crossed her arms, looking a lot like the awe-inspiring demon slayer Daddy said he had first fallen in love with.

"But Sango, my lovely, isn't he the biggest, bravest four-year-old you've ever seen?" Daddy protested, not seeming to notice the sword's threatening edge. In one fluid motion, he slid his hands under Mamoru's armpits, then hoisted him up and plopped him onto his shoulders. "Look! He's taller than both Mommy _and_ Daddy!"

She grinned as Mamoru started laughing in delight. Daddy bounced up and down a bit, making the boy shriek excitedly and wrap his arms around his father's forehead. The monk pranced over to his wife. "Aren't you proud of this wonderful, big boy we've got?"

Mommy sighed, but the smile stayed on her face. "As proud as I am of the wonderful, even bigger boy who's carrying him." She pecked him on the cheek, expertly dodging Mamoru's gleefully kicking feet, then blew a kiss to her son. "Dinner will be ready soon, all right boys?"

"Okay, Mommy!" Miroku and Mamoru chorused.

**My father would lift me high**

**And dance with my mother and me, and then…**

"Well, Mamoru? Now that Mommy's gone, what kind of mischief do you want to get into?"

"I heard that!" came Mommy's brisk voice from inside the hut. "And this sword is plenty sharp!"

He thought carefully for a moment, then wriggled to signal he wanted to get down. With a laugh, Daddy set him back on the ground. Once standing on his own two feet, Mamoru said authoritatively, "Let's go play with Cousin Ira and Cousin Shippo and Auntie Kagome and Uncle Inu!"

"Sounds like a plan!" Daddy agreed.

Mamoru began to run to Auntie Kagome and Uncle Inu's hut. He turned back and saw Daddy still standing by the hut, staring at him with a funny look in his eyes. "Come on, Daddy!"

Then, Daddy smiled at him. But the weird thing was he didn't look happy. He looked sad. Although he didn't know why, Mamoru looked down to Daddy's hand, and saw that he was making a fist, which was making the beads on his hand make funny clicking noises.

"Daddy, is something wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing, Mamoru. I just…" In a few quick steps, he caught up with his son and swept in up in his arms, giving him a big hug. "Mamoru, you're a big boy now…you're almost a man now, right?" He let Mamoru lean back, so they could look into each other's eyes. "Four-year-olds have lots of responsibility. And remember, when I…when I'm not around, _you_ have to take care of Mommy."

Mamoru wrinkled his forehead. "But Mommy knows how to take care of herself, cuz she can kill demons."

Miroku shook his head and smiled. "You'll understand when you get older. Now…" He set him back on the ground. "Bet I can beat you to Uncle Inu's hut! Readysetgo!" He ran toward a hut close by.

"Hey, no fair!"

…**spin me around 'til I fell asleep,**

**Then up the stairs he would carry me.**

**And I knew for sure I was loved.**

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Mamoru's eyes opened, his gray irises thinning around his dilating pupil, until he could see inside the dark hut. He sighed and stretched. Again, that dream. No, not quite a dream. A flashback, more like.

He sat up on his pallet, scratching his side. "Is it dawn yet?" he muttered sleepily. A glance at the window told him that he still had quite a bit of time before sunrise. The sky had barely begun to take on the gray light of false dawn.

With a sigh, he lay back down.

He rolled to one side, then the other.

Damn it, now he couldn't sleep.

He settled for staring at the wall, musing silently on his dream. Dad…how many years had it been since that day? Twelve. Twelve years. He was sixteen, and still, he had that same memory, sharp and clear as crystal.

**If I could get another chance,**

**Another walk,**

**Another dance with him,**

**I'd play a song that would never, ever end.**

**How I'd love, love, love**

**To dance with my father again.**

Cracking his knuckles, Mamoru frowned. Surely he was getting too old for this. Surely, six years after that one, terrible day, he wouldn't hang on to that shred of memory. 'Why?' he wondered.

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"Mamoru! Come _on_, lazybones, get up!"

"Jeez, if you weren't breathing, I'd swear you were dead! Wake up!"

A sharp finger poked him in the side.

"Go away…" he muttered, waving his hand in the general direction of the owner of the hand. "Just a little more…"

His cousin Ira's voice grew more insistent. "My god, it takes more effort to get you up than it takes to get a compliment out of my father. Come on!"

Shippo added, "Don't make me do it."

Mamoru burrowed his head under the pillow and muttered incoherently.

Shippo sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn you." With that, he grabbed Mamoru's shoulders and bodily rolled him out of bed onto the cold wooden floor.

The finally-awake teen sat up with a yelp. "Shippo!"

The orange-haired boy grinned and shrugged. "Sango wanted us to wake you up. Who's to argue with her? Even at age…how old is she? Thirty-five-ish? Well, however old she is, that boomerang bone still _hurts_."

Mamoru groaned and sat up, glaring at them. "What does she want?"

"She says it's your turn to get breakfast." Ira tugged on her long black ponytail, biting her lip. "Hey, Mamoru?"

"What?" he said absentmindedly, gathering his shoulder-length hair into a high ponytail, just like Uncle Kohaku's. He picked up his bolas, a chain with two spiked balls on either end, and checked for weak spots and bits of rust.

"Did…did you and Aunt Sango have another argument last night?" she asked nervously. "Cuz…Shippo heard lots of shouting, then we saw you storm out of the hut at about midnight."

Finding no problems, he sighed and exited the hut, deciding not to answer. Had they had a fight? Of course they had a fight; when did they not? He and his mom just couldn't see eye to eye. He didn't quite understand why; he could hardly remember what they had fought about.

He studied the forest unseeingly. Something about his friends in the village…that's right, she had heard about Yuki, about how he had stolen valuables from some old man's hut and sold them to travelers. She had forbidden Mamoru to ever talk to his friend again (just as Uncle Inuyasha had told Ira that he didn't want to hear of "that thief" courting her ever again). Mamoru had replied that he understood that what Yuki did was wrong, but he was _sixteen_, for the gods' sake, and knew not to follow his example.

**When I and my mother would disagree, **

**To get my way I would run from her to him.**

He imagined what Dad would've said:

"_Mamoru, I have a question for you."_

"_Shoot," a phrase he had learned from Aunt Kagome._

"_You know that thing you do with your thumbs…the twiddling, I think Ira called it?"_

"_Yeah, what about it?"_

"_When did you start doing that?"_

"_Oh, I guess sometime after Ira started."_

"_So you picked it up from her?" It was less of a question than a statement._

"_Yeah, I guess."_

"_And how about your habit of swearing at every little thing? Bet you got that from your uncle."_

"_Which one? Kohaku or Inuyasha?"_

"_Both."_

"…_I s'pose."_

"_You realize that swearing so much isn't good."_

"_Well, yeah, but…it just happens. I'll stop if you want me to."_

"_If you want to, go ahead; I don't have such a big problem with it."_

"_Then why bring it up?"_

"_I just wanted to point out that what other people do can rub off on you."_

"_Uh-huh…I see that."_

"_Even bad habits."_

"_Yeah."_

"_Things that you know are wrong."_

"_Yeah…"_

"_Including _theft_."_

"_Daaaaaad…"_

"_No, listen. I know that you know stealing is wrong. Bandits know that, too. Does that stop _them_ from doing it? No. Do you want to end up a bandit, son?"_

"_Nooo…"_

"_So please, do us all a favor, and avoid Yuki until someone sets him straight."_

"_But he's my _friend_, Dad."_

"_Tell me, did he ask you if you wanted to join him?"_

"_Well…yeah, I guess."_

"_What kind of friend is that, Mamoru?"_

"_Well, what kind of friend am _I_ if I don't try to get him to stop?"_

"_That's a good point. Unfortunately, Yuki seems to have a much greater influence on _you_ than you have on _him_, and that worries me. Let his parents teach him morals. You work on _keeping_ yours."_

_"Fine…" Cue exasperated sigh._

**He'd make me laugh just to comfort me,**

**Then finally make me do just what my mama said.**

He sighed and fingered the chain of his bolas. Why couldn't Mom be reasonable like that?

"Because she _isn't_ reasonable," he muttered, entering the forest. But his mind protested. 'You know she does her best with you. She tries hard not to restrain you, but there are some things that she just won't let go. She's just worried about you.'

He moved silently through the brush as he countered, 'But does she have to be so damn pushy about it? Hasn't she ever tried persuasion, like Dad?'

'Mom isn't Dad.'

He smirked, studying the ground for tracks. 'If she were, I'd be worried.'

'Be serious. You know how she is. She's strong, she's tough. But she doesn't understand emotions very well, not like Dad does.'

'Like Dad _did_,' he silently corrected himself. Rabbit tracks! And recent ones, judging by the droppings. He followed them, ghosting past trees and bushes.

**Later that night when I was asleep,**

**He left a dollar under my sheet.**

**Never dreamed that he would be gone from me.**

About ten minutes later, he walked out of the forest, holding two dead rabbits by the ears. One showed signs of having been hit in the head with something heavy; the other's neck had been broken. As he congratulated himself on the unusually short hunt, he saw his mother standing in front of the hut and groaned.

"Mamoru," she said sharply. "I'm not satisfied with the answer I got out of you last night, if you can call that an answer."

He tramped past her and into the hut, muttering, "I'm sixteen, Mom. I can choose my own friends, thanks very much."

She scowled and followed him into the hut. "You haven't done a very good job so far. Why do you want to be friends with a _thief_, Mamoru? Don't you care at all about what could result from an association like that? Those who walk with monsters _are_ monsters," she quoted. It was a motto from her demon-slaying days, although she had replaced the word "demons" with "monsters" ever since she realized that not all demons were evil.

"I can take of myself, okay?" Mamoru said furiously.

"You are my _son_. Until you become a man, which will not be for another six months, you obey _me_. I want the best for you, and Yuki is not the best."

Mamoru could almost feel himself swell. "Look, can you just butt out of my life? Get out and _stay_ out!"

She gaped at him for a moment before saying softly, but angrily, "Mamoru, I understand your devotion to your friends, but this is only going to hurt you."

"Oh, and constant arguments with my mother won't? The death of my father when I was only ten won't damage me at all? I think Yuki should be the least of your worries right now!"

"There wouldn't _be_ constant arguments if you weren't always contradicting me," she reminded him heatedly.

"Just as there wouldn't be if I stopped speaking to you at all," he said, matching her heat with ice.

"Mamoru, don't even _think_ of threatening me with something so childish as the silent treatment—"

"Well, it's what I've always had to resort to in order to be heard!" he shouted. "You _never_ listen to me, it's always _you_ who knows best, always _you_ who holds me in your best interest! You've never tried to talk, to understand, to even take the time to try and convince me instead of order me! _Dad_ always did, but here you are with your 'parental authority' and all that—"

Sango gritted her teeth and said as calmly as possible, "I am not your father."

"Well, I wish you _were_!"

That did the damage. He watched triumphantly as her face tightened, then as she swept silently out of the hut.

Moments later, before guilt had a chance to settle in, Shippo, Ira, and, surprisingly, Aunt Kagome stuck their heads in through the door. "Mamoru…" Shippo growled.

"What?"

"That was the most callous, insensitive thing I have _ever_ heard _anyone_ say. Sango was madly in love with Miroku, and she loves you more than all of us put together. Saying that, implying that you wished _she_ had died instead of Miroku, reminding her so roughly that the love of her life is _gone_…" Shippo glared at his surrogate cousin for a moment before leaving, perhaps to comfort his old traveling companion.

Mamoru shouted after him, "I just meant that she should try being more like Dad!"

**If I could steal one final glance, **

**One final step, **

**One final dance with him,**

**I'd play a song that would never, ever end,**

'**Cause I'd love, love, love**

**To dance with my father again.**

Kagome shook her head. "She's tried so hard to be a good parent, Mamoru. Then, you, the single most important person in her life, call her inadequate, wish that she were someone else. It hits hard. Trust me, I know."

"Well, _Ira's_ told you that she wishes you would just get out of your life."

"I didn't lose my entire village and my father in one vicious day. I didn't spend a year knowing that my little brother was under the control of the foulest creature ever to set foot in the realms of the living. I didn't lose the man I love to a curse that should have disappeared over ten years before. One person can only take so much, Mamoru."

Ira spoke up. "Besides, I always apologize afterwards. Unlike a _certain_ someone in this hut."

Mamoru growled and dropped the rabbits on the ground. "Oh yeah, now _I'm_ the bad guy."

He stomped out of the hut, away from the two women who were exchanging glances that said, quite clearly, "_Men_."

'Just like them to side with her,' he seethed, tromping his way to the forest, where he could find some peace and quiet, or, even better, a couple demons to take out his frustration on. 'Why don't _they_ try to live with a dragon in human form?'

As the deep green foliage enveloped him in dignified silence, he muttered, "'There wouldn't _be_ constant arguments if you weren't always contradicting me!' 'Those who walk with monsters _are_ monsters!' Why is she always so convinced that she's right?"

He suddenly halted as a familiar voice began to speak in the bushes off to his right. "Sango, I'm sure he didn't mean it."

"How can you know that, Shippo?"

The voice shocked him. He knew his mother's voice well, but…

"My mom doesn't _cry_," he whispered incredulously.

But the stifled sobs were still audible as Sango continued, "He was so _serious_ when he said that! He'd rather Miroku be alive than me, I just know it!"

"Sango, pull yourself together! What would Miroku say if he could see you now? He'd tell you that it's all right, that Mamoru's just going through a rebellious stage in his life. I went through it, Inuyasha still hasn't come out of it—"

"This is different!" she interrupted. "Mamoru's right, I'm an inadequate parent! I never thought that I'd be able to raise him properly, I depended on Miroku's help! I'm not patient; I don't know how to talk to my own son without starting a fight!"

"You've done a _great_ job raising Mamoru," Shippo argued. "He's an excellent fighter, he has good morals, he respects people—"

"But he doesn't respect me, and he shouldn't! I couldn't even save Miroku from dying; how can I _raise_ a child properly? I can't do this, Shippo. I can't…" Her breaths were getting choppy, like she was trying to hold back fervent bawls. "Look, Shippo…I appreciate your coming out here to comfort me, but I'd really like some time to myself, okay?"

There was a pause, then Shippo's reluctant voice said, "Well…if you're sure you'll be okay."

A forced chuckle. "Don't worry. I may have gotten older, but that deosn't mean I can't kick a meddling demon's ass."

Another pause, then Shippo slowly left the forest. Sango was silent, apparently waiting for Shippo to get out of earshot before murmuring, "I'm sorry, Miroku. I can't handle _any_ of this without you. I'm so weak…I was always so weak. _You_ were my strength, Miroku. And now that you're gone," she gulped, "I just can't do it."

"Mamoru always listened to you, and you could always listen to him. I don't know how, Miroku. He's my son, but every time I see him, I just get this reminder that you're gone, and I get so angry, and so dejected, that I find myself starting a fight. Even when I try to get along with him, he seems to hate having to listen to me."

**Sometimes I'd listen outside her door,**

**And I'd hear how my mother cried for him.**

**I pray for her even more than me.**

**I pray for her even more than me.**

"Is that it, Miroku? Am I so inadequate that our son _hates_ me? Does he hate me for being the one to live? Does he hate me because _you_ died, and I didn't?"

"Mom…" Mamoru suddenly found himself pushing through the bushes that hid him from his mother. "Mom, that's not it."

She looked up in surprise, surprising Mamoru in turn. He had never seen nor heard her cry before; the sight of those tears trickling down her cheeks was a shock. Never before had his indomitable mother looked more vulnerable, weeping silent tears as she sat limply on a dying log.

"Mamoru…you heard me, didn't you?" She suddenly shook her head. "Mamoru, be honest with me. Do you hate me?"

"Mom, I could never hate you," he said softly. "I mean, yeah, I resent you a _lot_ when you get all authoritarian on me, but hate? Never."

He hesitated, then continued as he stepped toward her, "It's just that I've been so angry since Dad died. I feel like the world has no right going on so happily without me. So when I see you trying to give me the best and to help me live a normal life, I get upset. I always thought that you just didn't understand that he had _left_, that you didn't care."

"Mamoru, trust me, I care," she murmured, smiling crookedly in spite of herself. "Your father was the love of my life. He made me happy, he made me angry, and he made me strong. He was always so confident, even with his Wind Tunnel. When it didn't disappear after we defeated Naraku, he just smiled and said, 'Well, there was no guarantee that the curse would break.'"

She took a deep breath, quelling her tears with what seemed like pure willpower. "But one day, he went off on his own. When he didn't come back for hours, I got worried and went after him. And when I found him…" she bit her lip, "he was _crying_. Do you know how shocking it is, to see a man like your father, who always had the strength to smile, always saw the bright side of things, with tears streaming down his face? He told me that he was so frustrated. He told me that it was okay if I didn't want to marry him anymore, since marrying him, and having children by him, would only cause more pain."

She smiled mistily as Mamoru thought, 'Actually, I _do_ know how it feels to see someone you've always thought of as strong cry.' "I replied that I didn't care about the pain; I cared about _him_. How could I leave him at a time like this? So we got married, we had you…and then he died. One day, he just up andtold me, 'Sango, on the night of the next full moon, I'm going to die.'"

Her recounting stopped there, but Mamoru's memory finished for her. That night, he had woken to an empty hut. Dad had been acting funny that day, saying that he had to leave forever, that Mamoru had to take care of Mom. So he went outside to find them, to ask Dad where he was going, and why. And he saw it. He saw Mom and Dad's farewell embrace. He saw Miroku suddenly push Sango away. He saw him retreat to the middle of the open field just behind their home. He saw as the winds opened of their own accord, slowly swallowing a silent Miroku's body. He saw Mom drop to her knees, staring at the crater that had once been her husband.

He shook his head, then hesitantly touched his mom's shoulder. "Mom…Mom, I'm sorry. I've been a complete bitch of a son. It was selfish of me to say that I wanted Dad back. I just never really saw that you were also upset that he was gone."

Sango patted a space next to her, and he sat. She turned him so she could study his face, and ran a hand through his bangs. "No, I have no right to weep for my husband like this. Not when he gave such a wonderful son to love and raise." She gently kissed his forehead.

"Well, I'm sure Dad won't mind if you cry a _little_. You know, he may even be offended if you stop."

**I know I'm praying for much too much,**

**But could you send back the only man she loves?**

**I know you don't do it usually,**

**But dear Lord, she's dying**

**To dance with my father again.**

She laughed weakly. "That sounds like something he would say." She studied him, unconsciously tucking a few stray hairs behind his ears. "Even though your father has left us, he left us _with_ each other, Mamoru. Never forget that. I know that I can be impatient and temperamental, but always remember that I love you with all of my heart."

He grinned. "I love you, too, Mom. And now…" he stood, "there are two rabbits in the hut waiting to be skinned and devoured." As if on cue, his stomach growled. "Since we missed breakfast, how about an early lunch?"

Her clothes rustled as she stood as well. "It sounds great. Oh, and Mamoru?" she added as they began the walk back to the village.

"Yeah?"

"I'd still appreciate it if you…gave Yuki some space."

"_Moo_ooom…" he said exasperatedly. "Not when we've finally come to a truce of sorts!"

Her impish smile suddenly made him understand how his father had come to love this woman. "'Never make peace with a demon; always fight for the kill,'" she quoted again.

"Oh, and now I'm a demon?" he huffed.

"Perhaps you would like to be reminded of what a terror you were when you were a boy?"

"Uncle Inuyasha was worse."

She smiled and threw an affectionate arm around her son's shoulders. "Your 'uncle' was a terror when angry. _You_ were a terror when you were happy. I was almost relieved when you would start to cry."

"Oh, thanks very much, Mom. See what you get for Mothers' Day," Mamoru muttered sulkily. She laughed in reply, and he had to grin back. "One big hug for dealing with a 'terror' like me."

She squeezed his shoulder. "You're so like your father. I'm thankful that I have you, my son."

"And I'm thankful for you, Mom." After a beat of silence, he added, "But if you tell anyone I said that, I will deny it. Vehemently."

**Every night I fall asleep,**

**And this is all I ever dream.**

_**111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111**_

He watched the whole thing from the cover of the trees, not that he really needed it. They couldn't see him anyway. His lips curled up in a smile as he watched the two enter the hut, still hugging. "It's about time those twofoundpeace. Maybe now that I don't have to babysit them anymore, I can finally find my own."

Then, he turned and vanished, the only trace of his presence an instant before being two footprints and a small dent in the dirt, where a monk's staff had been planted for a few moments' rest.

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Guess who!

Yes, that idea has been bouncing around in my head for EONS! Like, since winter.

What'd you think? It's my first time writing in an OC's point of view (well, the first and last part are Sango and Miroku, but they add up to two pages out of fourteen…in the big scheme of things, it really doesn't matter). In fact, it's one of my first OC's ever (except the little kids in Silver Linings…and Neko in BTBL…and does Midoriko count, since she has no personality (or real role, for that matter) in the original story?).

Well, anyway, have a wonderful day!

(Psst…if you want _me_ to have a wonderful day…well, reviews go a long way…)


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